


Flight of the Pteranodons

by Tarlan



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic Park III (2001)
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-30
Updated: 2009-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:32:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan reflects on his losses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight of the Pteranodons

I've never been good with children and yet I've learned more about myself through them than I could ever have achieved alone. Perhaps it's their lack of complexity; being too young to have formed the shades of gray that colour a person's life and emotions with each passing year. To them, most everything is black or white, good or bad.

I don't know why I chose Eric as my wailing wall, after all, he was just a child; though a remarkable child who had survived eight weeks on this island -- alone -- where some had not lasted eight hours.

Billy was gone.

Only a short while earlier I had been forced to turn back, unable to go to Billy's aid as the pteranodons attacked him. But those few seconds, watching their long cruel beaks stab at his defenseless body, seeing the pink of frothy blood in the water as the current carried the horrific sight away, would haunt me forever... and not even the awe-inspiring sight of the graceful Brachiosaurs and the lumbering Pinacosaurs would ever take away those few seconds of horror.

All I could think, then and now, was of my harsh words to him just a short time before. I accused him of being no better than Hammond and the Ingen scientists who had created this theme park full of monsters. From the look in his eyes, I could not have hurt him more if I had laid into him with my fists.

It was unforgivable of me as I, of all people, knew the danger we faced, knew that there was no time for pettiness beyond those first angry words. I had seen the remorse in his eyes, seen the way he silently begged me for forgiveness. I should have granted it.

Too late.

It was far too late now for self-recrimination and yet there I stood, on the deck of the small boat, trying to find excuses for my behaviour -- and excuses for Billy.

Strange, but I didn't expect Eric to understand so it came as a shock when I discovered that he understood all too well... and that I was the one who had got it wrong.

Billy was right.

It took a special kid to make me see sense; to straighten out the conflicting emotions I'd stored inside as I tried to come to terms with Billy's death... and the part I'd played in it. After hearing Eric's words all that was left in my heart was grief.

I had lost the one person in this world that I could have loved; the one person I *did* love... and now all I had left to me was the hollowness of regret for the wasted years. I smiled, bitterly, as I recalled all the times Billy had flirted with me, but there was always a reason for pretending I hadn't understood what he was offering; the University and colleagues' perception of such a relationship, the reaction of family and friends... I even justified my avoidance by mentally citing the difference in our ages.

Billy was just... young.

As I look at Eric in realization of what I have lost, I finally understand that age has little to do with anything. Suddenly, I see a maturity in Eric -- and in Billy -- far beyond their years. I recognize that I have been the child here, seeing the world through black or white while they enjoyed a whole spectrum of colors that included those shades of gray.

-ooOOoo-

As we traveled down the river on the abandoned Ingen boat it was hard to tell night from day beneath the thick canopy of trees. I closed my eyes, trying to snatch at sleep while there was opportunity, but the strong images lay waiting behind my eyelids...

I relive the sight of Billy running through the knee-deep water, and I hear the leathery flap of wings and the harsh cry of the pteranodons as they swoop down upon him. I watch, again, in horror as he is lifted from the ground, the talons piercing his shoulders -- front and back -- but then he twists and falls, landing in the deeper channel at the center of the river.

"Get away."

Billy loved me.

If ever I needed proof that he loved me then those words said it clearer than any others -- more so than even the simple words 'I love you'. For even as they attacked him, his thoughts were of me; more concerned with my safety than of his own imminent death... and so I was forced to turn and flee as another of the creatures spotted me and Kirby.

I can still see the beady eye focusing on me; see the long beak open to reveal the small, razor sharp serrations of teeth... and I shudder as I imagine that beak tearing into my flesh just as it tore into Billy's.

-ooOOoo-

The darkness seems more absolute now that we have outdistanced the fire on the water... and the air feels heavy with the promise of more rain. All too soon my vision is restricted by the torrential downpour but it feels good, as if washing away some of my sins. I know we cannot be too far from the coast, but it makes sense to head for the treetops until dawn as some of the worst predators come out at night.

We climb the trees in silence, too tired or too listless to talk. The initial elation of being reunited has worn off with the knowledge that it could all be snatched away again, just as Billy was taken from us -- from me.

The Kirbys are huddled together with arms wrapped around each other -- a family reunited. I can hear the softest of snores from Amanda and Eric as they sleep in the relative safety of Paul Kirby's arms.

In contrast, I cannot sleep. I have never felt so alone as I do this night, huddled against the rough bark of this tall tree, and nestled in the wide crook of branches. The leafy canopy over my head provides some protection from the seemingly endless rain but nothing can shelter me from the storm of my emotions. Billy should have been here in my arms, secure in my embrace with his head buried against my shoulder and, in turn, I should have felt the comforting presence of his warm body against me.

A glint of reflected moonlight through a break in the canopy and clouds above reveals that Kirby is awake too. We stare at each other for a moment and then I see his hands tighten around his wife and child as he registers my loss... and then his own vulnerability to that same loss.

Daylight comes eventually and I think I must have dozed for a while out of sheer exhaustion. We climb down from the tree slowly, carefully, ever watchful for the vicious predators that grow larger and more ferocious closer to water.

We trudge along in silence and then we hear it; hear the sound of waves breaking on a sandy shore. Filled with elation that we have made it to the coast, we rush headlong through the trees and shrubs -- and into danger.

Billy's final gift to me feels warm in my hands but this time I don't recoil as I hear the sounds coming from the man-made resonating chamber that I have placed against my lips. I take Kirby's advice and mimic the sound the raptor made as it called for help. Would it have fooled the raptors if the beat of helicopter blades had not been heard at that instant? It still surprised me that they didn't lash out at us before they retreated with the coveted eggs, especially after hearing how callously they snapped Udesky's head even though they had no plans to devour him.

I felt guilty when the marines poured onto the beach and helicopters whirled overhead; not because I was ungrateful to see them but because I had survived while Billy... I choked off that thought and entered the helicopter. Confusion filled me as I turned to the body encased in bandages, wondering if they had been wrong about Udesky, or maybe Cooper had... No, Cooper was dead.

"Hey, you made it."

-ooOOoo-

I still have nightmares, though not so often about the raptors at Jurassic Park anymore. Instead it is Isla Sorna, and more particularly, the pteranodons that haunt my dreams with vivid images of death.

Each nightmare is slightly different and yet, some how, intrinsically the same. I see Billy standing in an open meadow, or on a sandy shore, or even in the center of busy street. He smiles at me with his chameleon eyes shining with love... and then I hear the leathery wings beating the air and I can only stand by, paralyzed, as they tear into him with teeth and claw until the ground runs red with his blood.

I believe I know what is fueling those nightmares... the sight of three Pteranodons seen from the helicopter as we made our escape from that island of death. I didn't believe I cared where they went as long as they stayed away from me and mine, but maybe it is the 'not knowing' that plays on my mind. In the darkness of another night I wonder if the Navy monitored the flight of the Pteranodons.

"Alan?"

"I'm okay. Go back to sleep."

"Another dream?"

I sigh, knowing I can hide nothing from him, just as he cannot hide his nightmares from me. He flips on the bedside lamp and stares bleary eyed at me, a small, reassuring smile playing about his perfect lips.

In the dim lamplight I can see the scars laying as shadows upon his shoulders, while the one on his throat stands out livid. Somehow he had managed to protect his beautiful face from the sharp beaks, but I would still have loved him no matter what damage those creatures inflicted upon him.

"Perhaps if I knew where they went..."

"Sshh." His finger touches my lips. "They've gone... far from here. Far from us. They won't ever hurt us again."

The finger moves gently, becoming a caress, and I kiss the callused pad. His firm, insistent lips replace that finger, stealing my breath away as his hands map the contours of my face. He sighs deeply in regret, pulling away, and then snuggles up beside me with his head pillowed on my shoulder and one arm thrown carelessly over my chest.

The night is humid and his sweat-slicked body is too hot but I hold him close nonetheless, taking my comfort in his loose embrace.

My thoughts return to that moment back in the helicopter when I realized that the man covered in bandages was *him*. We still laugh when we share that memory of our inane conversation over a hat when all either of us wanted was to hold on tight to each other and never let go.

I've not been parted from him since the day he came out of the hospital, no longer caring what others thought, and discovered that those who truly mattered had come round in acceptance.

My hand reaches up to brush across his temple and into the dark, sweat-matted curls and I listen as his breathing softens into sleep before reaching over and switching out the light.

In the darkness I can barely see his outline, but I can feel his hard, young body pressed close to mine; I can feel the heat of his breath against my chest, and I can smell his clean sweat mingled with the pungency of our raw sex. He murmurs in semi-disapproval as I squeeze him tighter but then his own arm tightens around me.

I made a mistake once... and lost him. By some miracle he was given back to me, and as I plant a gentle kiss in his hair, I reaffirm my vow never to lose him again.

THE END


End file.
